


Reality, what Reality?

by ljunattainable



Category: Supernatural, Supernatural RPF, Supernatural/Supernatural RPF xover
Genre: Hurt Misha, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, xover
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-29
Updated: 2013-01-29
Packaged: 2017-11-27 11:12:09
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 18,121
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/661314
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ljunattainable/pseuds/ljunattainable
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Based around the story in The French Mistake, where Raphael isn’t quite sure which alternative universe Sam and Dean have been sent to.  He has to cover his bets and sends assassins to a number of possible alternative realities.  And because Raphael is a bit of a vindictive sod, nothing bodes well for anyone who looks like Castiel’s vessel, including one Misha Collins.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Reality, what Reality?

**Author's Note:**

> This idea started small and grew legs and morphed into something it wasn't initially. It's ended up as a bit of a strange bleeding of ideas across several realities into one reality. So I guess I'm sorta warning you that this might make it weird to read. idk.
> 
> It was published on livejournal and FF in 2012 and a few people who read it said they enjoyed it. So I guess, don't take it too seriously and hopefully you'll enjoy it too.
> 
> Also, apologies for the gratuitous Misha whumping.

**Amriel**

Amriel stumbles as he lands and looks around before moving. He knows he’s in the general location of Castiel’s vessel in this reality as his location has been tuned to his presence, but he can’t see him. In fact he can’t see much. It’s night and his ability to see in the dark is limited to normal human perception, which disgusts him; it’s like not just being with the rats in the sewers, but becoming one of the rats. It’s worse when he realizes he has no abilities here at all. He tries to manifest his blade and fails; he tries to fly and fails. At best, he’ll be reduced to witchcraft as a last resort, if that even works here. Although he’s been warned about the loss of his power, actually experiencing it is something completely different. He thinks it must be a lot like falling. He’s going to despise every minute of it, someone is going to pay for that and he already knows who.

 

\--xxx--

 

Amriel finally finds the prophecies, more through luck than anything else. In some realities, it’s books, in some scrolls, in some it’s the read word, and in this reality it’s visual on a device called a television. He’s been stuck here for nearly two months now, with no way of knowing what has happened, or what is happening in his own reality. He doesn’t know if the key’s been found already somewhere else. 

 

Five of them were sent forth, each into a different possible reality because no-one had been able to pinpoint the exact reality Balthazar had used. They each have only two objectives. First, get the key, if it’s there; second, before you leave, kill anything that even remotely looks like Castiel’s vessel. Amriel suspects, though he’d never dare to speculate aloud, the second objective was born more out of spite than necessity, but he’d be lying if he said he’s not looking forward to it. Of course, any of the other four could have found the key by now, perhaps long ago. Perhaps he’s the only one still out, looking. 

 

He’s located Castiel’s vessel through the prophecies, and also humans that look like the Winchesters, but obviously aren’t. He might think it’s strange the way some souls gravitate towards each other, even in different realities, if he isn’t a soldier and if it’s his job to think. But he is and it isn’t, so he doesn’t. He has a job to do and the humans who resembled the Winchesters aren’t a part of that, and he has no orders that relate to them, so he pays them no heed. The actual Winchesters he hasn’t found and he’s of the belief that they’re not here, which means the key also isn’t here. But he has to be sure before he returns or Raphael will gut him, metaphorically speaking.

 

Tonight he found out through the prophecies that he doesn’t have to wait any longer. 

 

He watches the prophecies on the Television. It’s confusing when they seem to jump around in the timeline but through experimenting he’s found a sequence of prophecies that relate to the war in Heaven. The timeline seems out of sync slightly but he’s not worried about that; time isn’t linear. To be honest, much of what’s in the prophecies isn’t known or recognizable to him but occasionally the odd truth leaps out bold and obvious. Enough so that he knows.

 

Tonight, finally, he’s seen the prophecy that relates specifically to his mission. Virgil has been the angel honored to go to the reality where the Winchesters were sent with the key but it seems it was all fake, and that makes him angry, that they were fooled. 

 

But, the positive is that he now knows there’s no key to find here. Amriel has seen that Virgil has successfully killed Castiel’s vessel in his reality; a sniveling example of humanity begging for his life to be saved. Amriel can’t imagine Castiel in that skin. There’s almost no honor in the killing of one so weak. Amriel’s going to do it properly. Maybe draw it out a little. He might as well have some fun before he goes back to obedience and subservience. No-one needs to know that he allowed himself a little indulgence.

 

**The Supernatural Set**

 

Damn, they so nearly had that scene! On the third take, Misha’s face again cracks into a grin and he shuffles in amused frustration, Castiel’s trenchcoat twirling round him like a prom dress. He points his finger at Jensen, the grin still wide on his face. Jeez, so close, and Jensen has to go and blow him one of those damnable kisses that always set him off.

 

Jensen’s laughing with him. God, Misha’s so easy to bait, it almost takes the sport out of it. Almost. Misha looks from Jensen, to Jared who’s standing laughing behind the camera. “C’mon, you guys, give me a break”. 

 

“Guys, really?” Bob asked. He puts on his frustrated voice, but there’s forgiving in it and a small smile on his face. The long days they work they have to make it fun. “Get ready to go again.”

 

Misha turns his back to the crew and camera, recomposes himself, and when he turns back, it’s Castiel who faces them “ok, I’m good to go”. They reshoot the scene twice more before Bob pronounces himself satisfied. 

 

Misha proclaims, with the sincerity and passion that only Misha can achieve, that he will be getting them back someday soon. They can count on it. 

 

“Bring it on”, Jensen says gleefully. 

 

It’s mid-evening, and they are tired but it has been a good day, a great day in fact. They’ll probably be finished by Midnight. Misha, Jensen and Jared leave to go and wait in Jared’s trailer, which is closest, while the set’s re-staged for the next scene, the last shoot of the night, and the set they’ll be shooting on all day tomorrow.

 

The dogs greet them enthusiastically when they reach the trailer and potter around them while they each help themselves to soft drinks from the fridge. Jared lowers himself on to the small couch, picking up the Xbox controller with a raised eyebrow in invitation to both his co-stars. Jensen picks up the second controller but Misha cries off saying he has something to do on the iPad. "Ten minutes guys, then I'm in."

 

With Jensen and Jared happily beating the crap out of each other in virtual reality, Misha settles back comfortably in the trailer’s single armchair, keeping one eye on the battle taking place on the screen in front of Jared and Jensen, and one on the iPad in his hand. They probably have an hour before they have to return to the set and the timing couldn’t be better.

 

A yell of triumph comes from Jared’s lips, and Jensen throws his controller down in disgust. “You so fucking cheated, man.”

 

“How? How can I cheat? If the game lets you do it, it’s allowed. You are such a sore loser.”

 

“Mish, what’re you doin’?” asked Jensen as he stands up to grab another soda from the fridge, bending down to plant a noisy kiss in Misha’s hair as he goes past, to an exaggerated eye-roll and a “Yuk, get a room” from Jared. Jensen gives him the finger and Misha ignores them both. 

 

Misha can manage looks of extreme innocence and extreme mischievousness in fairly equal proportions but right now mischievousness is winning. Jensen returns to Jared, grabbing the Xbox controller for a rematch and Misha smiles that grin that goes all the way to his hairline, and turns the iPad round to show Jensen and Jared the video stream that’s happening on the tablet. "Remember this show?"

 

Some of the shows you’d need to watch for 5 or 10 minutes to make sure you have the right one, and then listen to the dialogue just to make certain. This one’s unmistakable within a few seconds. The French Mistake. filmed a couple of months ago and getting its first public airing tonight, streaming live on Misha’s iPad. For some reason yet to be determined.

 

They’d really had fun making that show. A made-up reality, with not a lot of truth but enough for the fans to relate to, like Jared being married to Gen, and Misha being twitter-mad. They'd all enjoyed it, but Misha had loved it! Reveled in it from the first draft of the script, enjoyed setting up his 'Misha character' to try and convince the fans that the 'real' Misha was some douche-bag diva actor. Ben hadn't let Misha get away with all he wanted, but enough of Misha's ideas had got in there to keep Misha happy. The memory of Misha sporting the 'Twilight' hair style and a sweater he wouldn’t normally be seen dead in makes Jensen smile. Jensen had laughed out loud at Misha's death scene. Thank god the hair and the sweater had made it so obviously fake, because, to be honest, he’d been a bit freaked by that.

 

“What’re you watching that for? It’s live, dude. It gets ads and everything. You know they’d give you a copy if you want to watch it”.

 

Misha tutted at the limitations of their thinking. "I'm just going to give the fans a freebie 'special feature'", he grins getting out his Smartphone, opening twitter and starting to type while keeping a close eye on the iPad stream. Jared looks at Jensen, shrugs and gets his iPhone out, and opens twitter. Nothing comes through on the timeline for @mishacollins.

 

“What’s up man, what’s happening?” Jared glances over at Misha.

 

“Patience, minion” Misha says, amused.

 

Misha keeps an eye on the video stream, needing to time this just right, his tweet composed and his finger poised over the ‘tweet’ button waiting...waiting....now! . "Ola mishamigos! J2 got me good. Really starting to feel like one of the guys". He sends his tweet simultaneously with the Misha character on the show. Jared and Jensen see it come up on Jared’s iPhone and grin in recognition.

 

“Yeah, look at those minions go!” Misha proclaims happily, watching the re-tweets starting already. "I’m doing one in each time-zone. I'm coast-agnostic", Misha grins at Jensen and Jared, turning off the iPad for a couple of hours til the show airs again across the other side of the country.

 

"I hope our fans can tell fiction from reality 'cause you're messing with their minds", says Jensen smiling, and turning back to his Xbox game with Jared. “Prepare to die, cheat”.

 

\--xxx--

 

A few hours later, the old episode’s forgotten, brushed under the memory of the new one which sits fresh in Misha’s mind as the set wraps up for the night. The cast and crew are happy, smiling, tired and filtering off home or what counts as home while they’re filming. 

 

Misha comes out of the wardrobe trailer together with Jensen and Jared, having hung up their characters bloodied, torn and grubby clothes in favor of their own outfits. On the short walk to the cars they say their "goodnights” and their "see you in the mornings”. Everyone’s going back to their own places tonight for some much needed sleep. Jensen and Misha go for their usual affectionate goodnight arm rubs in preference to a too obvious display that might elicit some teenage commentary from Jared. For some reason, even two years on, Jared still takes childish pleasure from winding them up. Clif has hung around for Jensen, Jared and the dogs and as they peel off that way, Misha, with a backward wave over his shoulder, makes his way to his own car parked behind his trailer a short distance away, his mind very much on the current episode and trying to shake off the dark cloak of a Castiel that he really doesn’t like much.

 

He’s so distracted that he doesn’t see the figure in the hoodie watching him from the shadows or hear the quiet footfalls as he’s tracked across the lot. Misha hums to himself, thinking of bed, thinking of the plans for tomorrow, wondering what he and Jensen should do for the day off they’ve got coming as he walks round his trailer to his car. On automatic pilot, he pushes the button on the key to unlock the car and reaches out for the door handle. 

 

“Fuck!” he exclaims, instantly withdrawing his hand from where it has curled round the handle. 

 

Cursing and hissing at the sharp pain, he turns his hand to look at the deep slices through the inside flesh of two of his fingers. Holding his hand up to his face to peer at the cuts, he watches the blood oozing and dripping and already covering most of his hand and starting to snake over his wrist, down his arm under his shirt towards his elbow. “Fuck”, he says again, grabbing the loose hem of his shirt and wrapping it round his fingers putting pressure on to stop the bleeding.

 

Changing his grip so he has one hand free, Misha fishes his phone out of his pocket and activates the torch app. He drops to one knee so he can see the door handle closely and shines the light on the handle. At first he can’t see anything amiss but when he shuffles slightly to move his hand from where it’s seeping blood through the shirt material onto his jeans, he sees something glint that shouldn’t be there. A thin, razor-edged blade of metal, jammed into a seam in the handle. Not big, tiny even, but obviously enough. Misha can’t even begin to work out how it got there. Pulling it away easily with his good hand, he throws it on the ground in disgust.

 

He looks at his fingers, still bleeding freely. Damn, they're going to need stitches and he’s due back on set in 8 hours. “Fuck!” he says again, a dozen frustrations wrapped up in the curse.

 

\--xxx—

 

Amriel smiles smugly, and creeps away, unnoticed by Misha.

 

Amriel has set up a small, little-used workshop at the back of the lot. No one has noticed the new portable building in amongst all the others. His grinding wheel turns slowly, sparks flying as the metal slides against the stone, taking shape. He’s nearly ready. The metal isn’t the same, but the weight feels right. He’s happy.

 

He wants a blade that mirrors the blade he’s been unable to manifest since he’s crossed over. He’s attached to it. He knows how to wound and how to kill most effectively with that type of weapon; and besides he knows nothing about firearms and even less about unarmed hand to hand combat. And two months with no power may have made him cruel and mean. He’s impatient to get started but not before he’s ready. He grins sadistically. He wants Castiel’s vessel to know he’s coming for him, though. He wants him to know he’s being hunted. In little ways, little, painful, needling ways, Castiel’s vessel will know.

 

\--xxx—

 

When Misha parks up the next morning, on schedule, in his usual spot behind his trailer and wanders straight over to the coffee cart, he’s looking forward to his morning fix. No, more than that; he needs it. He spent hours waiting in the emergency room at the hospital for them to stitch his fingers and he’s seriously lacking in sleep. He couldn’t be more grateful when Jensen comes up to him and hands him his regular pick-me-up, almost as if he’s been waiting for him, which, come to think of it, he almost certainly has. 

 

“Now that’s what I call service!” Misha exclaims with enthusiasm, and a tired grin.

 

“Don’t ever say I never give you anything.” Jensen sips from his own cup, smiling up at Misha in fond welcome. “Man, that’s good.” Jensen’s eyes flick to Misha’s bandaged hand. “What happened to your hand?” 

 

Misha gives a frustrated shrug. “Disagreement between my fingers and a piece of metal. Spent two hours in the damned hospital last night getting stitched back together.”

 

Jensen looks worried and concerned and places a hand on Misha’s forearm, “you’re ok?”

 

“Yeah, fine. The cuts are small. The bandage can come off when we shoot.”

 

Mostly relieved by Misha’s assurances, but letting his hand linger on his arm in any case, Jensen grins and continues “’cause obviously I’m worried about us having to change the shooting schedule, and Cas having some random injury will fuck it up. Of course, you do look more shattered than usual. And that’s going to be hard to hide, even for our make-up wizards.”

 

“Oh, thank you for your concern, ex-friend!” Misha says in exaggerated irritation.

 

“Touchy!” Jensen’s still smiling though.

 

Misha looks round, taking a swig of coffee. “Did they say when they’d be ready for us?” Misha’s attention turns back to the day’s shoot and his gaze wanders back to Jensen.

 

“Not long, less than an hour. The set’s all ready to go. Make up and wardrobe awaits.” Jensen makes to wander off towards the wardrobe trailer with his coffee, looking back over his shoulder when Misha doesn’t immediately follow to ask “you coming?”

 

“Yeah. In a minute. I just need to dump this coat in my trailer first.” Misha indicated the oversized blue jacket he’s wearing against the early morning Vancouver chill.

 

Misha’s trailer’s already unlocked when he tries the key in the door. Damn. He’d gone in to fetch something to wrap his fingers for the drive to the hospital, but he’s sure he locked it again. The last time he forgot to lock up, he’d been greeted with shaving foam in his spare underwear drawer, courtesy of Jared’s warped sense of humor, and Jared’s absence from the coffee stand this morning is now looking suspicious. 

 

Climbing into the trailer, leaving the door open, he looks around for anything out of place, but he’s in a bit of a hurry. Nothing has obviously moved or is missing so shrugging and mentally crossing his fingers in forlorn hope, he makes mental plans to check properly later and hopes he just forgot to lock it and Jared never found out; it was late, and he was distracted by pain and blood after all. He remembers why he came back and shuffles out of his coat and throws it across the back of the armchair. When he turns ready to leave, the door slams shut.

 

Okay, that’s weird because there isn’t any wind. He tries the handle and is surprised when he can’t open the door and struggle as he might, he can’t do more than rattle it in its frame. He pulls, pushes, heaves, shoves, even throws himself against the door, but it won’t budge. As God is his witness, Jared or Jensen or both of those bastards are going to pay for this! 

 

Now he’s annoyed. He takes the couple of necessary small steps to one side of the door to look out of the window, expecting to see Jared and Jensen outside laughing themselves hoarse, but all he sees is a figure in a hoodie not far away. Probably one of the PAs that come and go from the set when they’re busy, because he doesn’t recognize him. Misha thinks the guy’s looking his way, but obviously not, because as much as Misha tries to get his attention, waving and yelling, the guy doesn’t notice him. And he must be goddamn deaf, thinks Misha, because after a minute or so, he walks past the trailer, under the Window Misha’s yelling out of, past the door and out of Misha’s sight.

 

Crap, he’s going to be in trouble again for being late for wardrobe. He throws himself against the door of the trailer in one last frustrated attempt to get out, and the door flies open easily, with a surprised Misha sprawling through it at high speed, head first, down the 3 steps and onto hard concrete.

 

\--xxx--

 

Amriel drops the piece of metal he’s used to jam the door in place into a nearby trash can. That went much better than he expected, he thinks as he watches Misha lying winded on the hard ground. He’d only hoped to annoy, worry and perhaps, if he was lucky, bruise. He really is starting to enjoy himself for the first time in this warped universe. He smiles a cruel smile, and slips away to the back of the lot.

 

In the small workshop he turns the grinding wheel slowly, sparks flying as the metal slides against the stone, one edge so sharp it’s barely there, almost invisible when looked at side on. He’s nearly ready. 

 

\--xxx--

 

Misha focuses on the concrete mere inches from his face, trying to get his breath back. His head and knees sting and his brain feels as if it’s still shaking in his skull. After a minute or so, he lifts himself to his knees, which is a really bad idea as the stinging turns into stabbing pain. Shit. This is turning into an awesomely bad week. He sways a little as he forces himself up to standing, feeling dizzy as all the blood rushes in the wrong direction, so he takes his time and stands half upright, head down, hands on thighs as he waits for the blood in his body to redistribute itself and the dizziness to go away. Looking down he realizes he’s going to need some new jeans, as a big hole has been ripped into one of the knees. It’s a good job they’re old jeans.

 

Ah, well, he mentally shrugs, at least no-one noticed his embarrassing flying leap from his trailer and he can live with a few (more) cuts and bruises. God knows he usually has a few from various shenanigans anyway.

 

But any vague hope he has of keeping this quiet is soon shattered. He hears a shout of surprise from behind him and running footsteps heading his way. Swiveling towards the noise he sees one of the PAs drawing to a halt beside him, looking concerned. “What happened?”

 

Misha looks at the tear in his jeans and back up to the PA. “Just a fall. Nothing to worry about.”

 

The PA doesn’t look convinced, and Misha’s frustrated when more people appear drawn by the PA’s original yell. 

 

For some reason his increasingly animated proclamations of “I’m fine” don’t seem to be convincing them either. He’s trying to keep up his side of the continuing banter in a friendly manner but he’s getting a bit snarky. His head hurts and he needs new jeans and he needs to get to makeup and wardrobe and they won’t bugger off and leave him alone. He gives up and turns to walk away, only to face Bob coming towards him from the direction of the staged set they will be filming on today. Can it possibly get any more embarrassing? Jared and Jensen are going to die for this. In particular Jensen’s in grave danger of having all conjugal rights withdrawn. Misha can’t understand, though, why they aren’t there to appreciate the chaos caused by their prank.

 

“Misha, what happened?” Bob sounds alarmed, one hand holds Misha’s elbow while the other reaches up to brush Misha’s hair off his forehead.

 

Misha backs away from the unexpected touch “what..? I’m fine.”

 

Bob looks from his inspection of Misha’s head to his puzzled face. “Can’t you feel it? You have a cut on your head”.

 

Misha puts his hand to his head, wincing as he finds the cut and pulls it away with a smear of bright red covering the fingers. “Oh.” At least now he understands why no one believes him when he says he’s fine. 

 

“You need to get that seen to”. Bob doesn’t look or sound happy as he steers Misha towards the PA who’d first found him, saying shortly to the PA “medic”, and Misha, used to following Bob’s orders, is resigned to allowing himself to be led away to find the medic. He pauses only briefly to dig out his trailer keys and watch someone lock the trailer up, just to be safe. As the door of the trailer is closed, he notices an odd set of symbols sketched on the surface. He’s fairly sure they hadn’t been there before and is a bit pissed off that now he has someone adding graffiti to his trailer too. He’s about to go and look when a loud, clear voice calls to him across the lot.

 

“Meeeesha!” 

 

Oh, god. Well, not quite but almost as bad. Misha turns round with a slightly pained expression, even if some of it’s exaggerated. “Sebastian. I thought you weren’t here till next week.”

 

Sebastian’s eyes slide up and down Misha, assessing the damage with a curious but otherwise blank expression. “What happened?”

 

“Accident,” Misha says shortly. He’s going to get pretty fed up, pretty soon, relating the tale now it seems that absolutely everyone on set will know. Short answers seem easiest for his sanity. Or he might have to embellish it perhaps, maybe with tales of being attacked by alien unicorns? He’ll work on it.

 

“Hmmm” Sebastian murmurs, staring at him in a way that’s freaking Misha out slightly, because there’s something a bit off and over-intense about it. Not to mention that Sebastian’s keeping his distance instead of his usual greeting of a huge, handsy hug, which Misha appreciates but it definitely isn’t normal. Maybe Sebastian has some common decency and can see hugging him when he’s hurt might not be popular. Or maybe it’s because Jensen isn’t here to wound up by Sebastian getting pawsy. Mind you, add to that the guy has only uttered a total of four words so far and one of those has been Misha’s name and one of those isn’t technically a word. And none of them have been swear words. Yeah, anyway. A bit off.

 

Sebastian’s eyes slide sideways to the trailer and Misha catches the tiniest frown as they focus on the symbols sketched on the door.

 

“Weird, huh?” Misha says, watching his friend’s reaction. 

 

Sebastian’s head whips round to Misha’s again so fast, Misha blinks and takes an involuntary step back. “Very” is all he says. Then he grabs Misha’s elbow. “Where are we going?” Sebastian asks the hovering PA.

 

“Um, medic?” the PA responds, as if unsure that’s the right answer, or even if there is a right answer.

 

“Good idea. Let’s go.” There aren’t many people Misha lets drag him around. Sebastian in one of his moods is one of them.

 

\--xxx--

 

Jensen’s in wardrobe with Jared when the PA sticks her head in the door, holding a walkie-talkie. She addresses the whole room, a total of five people, including Jensen and Jared looking a bit flustered although that’s not unusual for a PA, given they’re often chasing down other people’s problems.

 

Jensen raises an anxious eyebrow though when she talks between pants. “There’s been an accident.” 

 

“Bad?” Jared asks at the same time Jensen asks “Who?”

 

She answers Jensen’s question first. “Misha.” Her reply to Jared’s question “I don’t know if it’s bad. I don’t think so” gets lost amongst the dash to the door but as he’s heading across the tarmac, Jensen just catches her yelling “Medic” in time to change direction that way, suddenly realizing he was heading for Misha’s trailer instinctively with no real idea of where he should be going.

 

Misha’s sitting in his boxers, having his knees tended to when Jensen comes rushing in with Jared close behind. Although, logically, Jensen knew it couldn’t be that bad if Misha was in the medic trailer instead of an ambulance, he’s still relieved to see him sitting up, alive, and complete with all his limbs. 

 

The medic’s using tweezers to pick bits of gravel out of Misha’s knees, which are both grazed and bloody. His head’s wiped clean but with a bruise already forming around a red, angry cut. There’s blood on the shoulder of his shirt and he looks cold, and sore, a little miserable, and a little angry. Jensen happens to think Misha looks incredibly sexy when he’s angry but that’s probably not an entirely appropriate thought right now and definitely not one he’s going to voice out loud.

 

Jensen glances to his right at the unexpected sight of Sebastian hovering near Misha and Misha gives them, then Sebastian, a brief glance and directs a raised eyebrow and a slight shrug Jensen’s way. He obviously doesn’t know why Sebastian’s there either.

 

“What the hell happened to you?” Jensen says, maneuvering himself, with a disgruntled look at Sebastian, between Sebastian and Misha so he can place a hand round Misha’s shoulder. Misha’s lips twitch, obviously finding it quite funny to watch Jensen try to maneuver Sebastian away from Misha using nothing but body language, being too polite to just tell him to fuck off. Jensen gives him a small worried grin, only partly able to enjoy the joke as he comes down from his mild panic. “Well, obviously we heard there was an accident, sort of, or we wouldn’t be here, but seriously, man, what happened?” 

 

“You don’t know?” Misha asked.

 

“Why would we know?” Misha doesn’t answer straight away and when Jensen realizes what Misha’s implying he’s openly shocked. “You think we had something to do with this? We didn’t”, Jensen glanced sideways at Jared, to check, because no one can guarantee Jared’s non-involvement in a potential prank, but Jared shakes his head in agreement. “You better tell us what happened” says Jensen turning back to Misha.

 

Misha wipes his hand over his face, screwing his nose up a little as he accidentally brushes against his bruised forehead, and Jensen and Jared listen as he explains about the trailer being unlocked, even though he’s sure he’d locked it, and the door being jammed, then not. He finishes up with “It looks like a setup. Ok, maybe not intended to do all this” he gestures at himself and his injuries “but if it’s a prank – you’ve got to admit, it’s your style.”

 

Jensen’s watching Misha’s face as he describes what happens but he can’t help his attention being drawn to the bandages round Misha’s fingers as Misha waves his arms around with his explanation. It’s kind of a coincidence, two accidents close together.

 

When Misha finishes the tale, Jensen and Jared shuffle a little sheepishly because, honestly, Misha’s right. It could have been a prank.

 

“Maybe it’s just an accident” Jared suggested. “You know. The door just gets stuck, then gets unstuck at an inconvenient time.”

 

“Yeah, Maybe” Misha says doubtfully. It is a bit of a cop-out explanation. 

 

A slight cough has them all turning their heads back towards Sebastian. Jensen had almost forgotten he’s there, he’s been so unnaturally quiet.

 

“Obviously it isn’t an accident,” Sebastian mutters, looking down his nose in derision. “Come on, why are you mud-monkeys always so thick? Not you, obviously Misha.” He reaches round Jensen to pat Misha on the shoulder, as Misha snorts a short laugh at Jensen and Jared’s expressions.

 

“Too much character bleed, man” Jared says, sounding a little annoyed.

 

“Yeah, yeah, whatever. I’m going to check something out. You two watch him and make sure nothing happens to him.” Sebastian points his finger at Jensen and Jared, making them lean back away from his hand. Nodding as if he’s made some profound point, he marches out. All three are left feeling slightly bewildered, and Jensen quite a bit pissed off because Sebastian knows Misha belongs to him (okay, maybe he hasn’t put it in quite those words to Misha) and since when did Sebastian become responsible for Misha’s welfare?

 

\--xxx--

 

When they get back to set they find the production team’s moved a couple of scenes around to accommodate the delay while Misha gets his cuts and bruises seen to and as a result Misha has the prospect of sitting around all morning not doing very much or seeking out Sebastian and trying to satisfy his curiosity.

 

Obviously he chooses the latter. He waits until Jensen’s busy with a scene before he leaves. He feels as if he’s sneaking off, but Jensen seems to have taken Sebastian seriously and has been hovering an awful lot, and Misha hates that kind of fuss. Jared still seems pissed off with Sebastian and Misha’s fairly sure if he told either of them he’s going to intentionally go looking for him, he’d be tied down to the nearest chair.

 

So he sneaks out, feeling only moderately guilty.

 

Sebastian’s not hard to find. Misha starts at his own trailer and finds Sebastian circling it slowly. He’s peering curiously on the walls of the trailer itself, on the concrete around it and the dust where Misha’s car’s parked; even on his car itself. Misha watches him for about ten minutes from afar before Sebastian comes back round and stands staring at the symbols sketched on the door. Misha walks up behind him, calling his name as he approaches. He has to call his name three times before Sebastian turns round suddenly, looking surprised, presumably too engrossed in what he’s doing.

 

Sebastian looks over Misha’s shoulder and around the lot and his eyes come back to rest on Misha’s face. “Where are the mud-monkeys? he asked with obvious, and not effected annoyance. “I thought I told them to watch you.”

 

“Well for one, Jensen and Jared,” Misha emphasized the names of his pet mud-monkeys with amusement, “don’t take orders from you, and secondly, I don’t need watching and thirdly, Jensen, to give him his due, tried, but I gave him the slip. So what the hell’s going on, Sebastian?” 

 

Sebastian hesitated. “I’m Balthazar.”

 

Misha laughed. That’s fucking ridiculous but also scary-weird. “Yeah, right.”

 

“No really, but believe me or not, I don’t really care. I do, however, care about Castiel. And that means I have to stop you getting murdered by Raphael, because you’re the last one left. So come here and let me show you something.”

 

“The last one…?” What the hell? This is too weird even for Misha. “Yeah, you know what Sebast…, uh, Balthazar, I’m going to take a rain-check on that. Come see me when you’re feeling sane again.” He shakes his head, turns and practically flees back to the set.

 

Sitting down in his chair, with a disapproving look from Jensen thrown his way when he realizes he’s back, Misha decides he’s quite happy to sit here and be fussed over after all because the most dangerous thing on set right now seems to be Sebastian.

 

The trouble is, sitting around doing nothing on an outdoors set in Vancouver isn’t the warmest activity. Jensen and Jared are fine because they’re busy. Misha’s first scenes are now after lunch. When Misha gets cold, shortly before lunch, he again sneaks away from the set heading for his trailer to get his coat. 

 

He glances round the lot and he’s relieved that Sebastian isn’t there but there isn’t anyone else in sight either and all of a sudden he isn’t sure he wants to go into the trailer. He has a vague, uncomfortable feeling he’s being watched and it’s creeping him out even though he knows it’s almost certainly just his imagination. He stands outside the trailer telling himself what an idiot he is. His brain is saying, fuck it, you just want your coat, but his nerves are saying it might be better to be cold. While he hesitates outside the trailer door, strong hands from behind grip him on both shoulders and he nearly jumps out of his skin.

 

“Shit, man”, he exclaims, turning round quickly to see Jared behind him. 

 

Jared smiles a little wickedly. “Made you jump, huh? That’ll teach you for sneaking off. I’m going for lunch. Are you coming? Jensen’s already there.” 

 

Misha nods, shivering “I’m freezing. I need my coat. Wait for me will you?”

 

“Seriously? You’re scared of your trailer?” Jared’s face is small part mild concern and a great deal of mockery.

 

Misha looks in horror. Oh god, what has he started? Fuck, he should have known better than to give Jared that small opening he needs. 

 

He tries to bluff his way out. “Of course not, but I’ll only be a second. I’ll walk with you.” The mockery has won out on Jared’s features because Jared knows he’s bluffing. Jared’s smile gets impossibly big. “You know what, forget it,” Misha sulks.

 

Jared grins, and Misha frowns, turns and huffs his way the last two steps to the trailer, as Jared turns and walks away laughing. Putting his key in, Misha finds the door already unlocked. He knows this time it was locked. Definitely. He stops. His breath catches. Okay. Now he’s definitely not going in there. He’s going to freeze instead.

 

“Where’s your coat?” Jensen asked innocently as he sits down at the lunch table with Jensen and Jared.

 

Misha looks across at him suspiciously, then at Jared, twin smiles creasing their features. “You bastards” he mutters under his breath “you unlocked the fucking trailer. Not funny guys!” He doesn’t know whether to be relieved or amused or annoyed. He’s going to go with annoyed, but with an element of trickster, because he is going to make them pay for this.

 

He stands up quickly, and obviously angry, and sways dramatically on his feet, clutching the edge of the table with one hand and putting the heel of the other to his injured head. Jensen and Jared both shoot up from their seats simultaneously in concern and Jensen moves quickly round the table steadying Misha with one arm round his shoulders, and the other hand on Misha’s upper arm.

 

“Shit, man. Sorry. We didn’t think. Sit down”. Jensen lowers Misha down into his seat, obviously feeling like the shit he is for pranking his friend when he’s hurt. “I’ll get you some water” he says and goes off on the errand.

 

Jared’s a little wiser, and lowers himself back into his seat thoughtfully watching Misha’s face, which Misha is trying to hide behind his hand.

 

Jensen comes back with the water and places it in front of Misha. “There you go, buddy.” Misha nods his thanks and drinks some of the water. He makes as if to stand up again, but only gets an inch from his seat when he sits back down looking exhausted.

 

Jensen is instantly there. “Stay there. What do you need? I’ll get it “.

 

“Food. Thanks.” And Jensen goes back to the catering truck to get Misha’s lunch. Misha sees him picking up all the bits and pieces Jensen knows are his favorites.

 

He looks at Jared, sees that Jared knows what’s going on and winks.

 

“How long are you going to keep this up?” Jared asks, smothering a laugh.

 

“As long as I can get away with it, and don’t think you’re not next”.

 

Jared grins and tucks in to his lunchtime burrito.

 

Back on set, made up and costumed, Misha’s hanging around yet again waiting for his scenes after a further delay. At least this time, Jensen’s with him while they finish Jared’s close ups. They’ve done a good job in make-up, hiding Misha’s head injury and Misha’s doing his best to hide the fact from all those around him that his knees and head are still aching. Except Jensen, of course. Misha’s enjoying having his own personal slave while it lasts. He’s fairly sure it won’t last long. Jensen will cotton on soon.

 

He’s restless though, still unsettled and much as he wants to not think about it, he can’t help his mind wandering to the guy in the hoodie who’d been hanging around the trailer and Sebastian acting so weird. He hasn’t seen either for hours.

 

“For fuck’s sake, Misha, will you stop fidgeting,” Jensen looks up from where he’s trying to concentrate on his script.

 

“Sorry” Misha tries hard to look as pathetic as he can without giving the game away. It’s a fine line. “I’ll just go and wait over there”, he starts to get up from his director’s chair, looking around the set, picking a new spot to go and fidget in.

 

Jensen snorts a half laugh. “No, I’m sorry, man. I know you’re edgy. I’m being an ass. Stay there.” Jensen looks across at him, then beyond him. “what’re you looking at?”

 

Misha’s staring into the shadows. He’d seen a hoodied-figure just standing there a moment ago when he was looking round the set. The guy isn’t there now, but Misha thinks it might be the guy he’d seen outside his trailer. 

 

Without explaining where he’s going, Misha gets up and sets off quickly across the set. Jensen yells after him but Misha ignores him; not intentionally but he’d rather not lose the hoodie guy.

 

When Misha sees the figure again, he’s clear across the lot, running. He pauses and wonders if it’s worth following him, after all he can presumably catch him sometime later if he works here, but he has a little time he can afford to kill so he sets off across the lot at a slower pace dictated by his sore knees. 

 

To get to where he’s going Misha has to pass his trailer; and his trailer door’s wide open. 

 

Misha stops. Fuck. Fucking Jensen and Jared. He walks up to the trailer, and feeling like an idiot, checks all round the door for signs it can be jammed shut again while he’s in it. Just to be sure, before going in, he grabs a plant pot from just inside and puts it on the top step to act as a barrier against the door slamming closed behind him. All thoughts of following the hoodied man have now disappeared. He’ll find him later.

 

Stepping up into his trailer, he starts walking through it just checking and looking and seeing that everything seems normal. He looks back over his shoulder every few seconds at the door much to his annoyance. For god sake, grow a set, he mutters aloud to himself. A head appearing in the open doorway makes him start. 

 

“What ya doing?” Jensen asks, grinning, peering in from outside.

 

“The door was open, as if you didn’t know” and he turns back to his task, moving further into the trailer.

 

\--xxx--

 

Jensen wonders about that. He hadn’t opened the door and Jared has been busy on set for hours. He decides he’ll wait, just in case, and steps back outside, idly looking around. He watches, disinterested, as a man in a hoodie appears from behind the trailer and walks casually away across the lot. Misha’d mentioned someone in a hoodie before and he vaguely thinks about walking to catch up with him, but a lot of people wear hoodies and Jensen decides it isn’t important.

 

Jensen turns back to Misha’s trailer to hurry him along as time’s getting on and they should get back to the set, but Misha isn’t anywhere to be seen. Probably in the small bedroom at the back, so Jensen yells to say he’s leaving “Mish – I’m going back to the set”.

 

He waits for an answer but none comes. Sighing he climbs up into the trailer, talking as he goes, heading for the back room. “Misha?” As he goes further into the trailer, Jensen can smell something odd. He can’t quite place it though it’s sort of familiar…enginey, sort of. He passes through to the back room, and the smell’s a lot stronger the closer he gets. He pushes the door wide and with more urgency this time, he again calls out “Misha?” He shakes his head slightly because something’s making him feel woozy. Panicking now about what the hell is making the strange smell, realizing it’s probably whatever it is that’s making him woozy, even though he can’t see anything, he puts his arm over his mouth and nose as he walks into the room looking desperately around for his friend. In the small room, he spots Misha immediately, on his knees, collapsed and leaning into the small camp bed as if he’s praying, his eyes closing and opening in a battle to stay conscious. 

 

Jensen tries to keep one arm over his mouth and nose as he grabs Misha’s closest arm and ducks to wrap it round his shoulders. Standing up in one fast fluid movement, he drags Misha out of the bedroom, Misha’s feet stumbling under him, only just supporting him. Jensen only makes it as far as the door between the rooms before he feels his knees give out as his head fogs. Dropping to his knees, he drops Misha, not quite unconscious but in no state to move on his own. Jensen forces himself to concentrate, and takes a few paces forward on his knees towards the open trailer door and the fresher air. He tries to yell for help, but can’t, his chest’s tight and gasping. He stumbles a few steps further and hears with relief the sound of someone fast approaching the trailer.

 

“Damn!” Sebastian pulls himself into the trailer and grabbing Jensen’s arm, and half-lifting, half-carrying him, he drags him the short distance to the trailer door and props him up quickly before going back in. Jensen gasps fresh air gratefully as he watches Sebastian turn Misha on his back quickly and efficiently and grabbing both Misha’s wrists, he drags him to the trailer door leaving his head in blessed clean air. Sebastian jumps over Misha and Jensen landing neatly on his feet outside.

 

“I have to go and check something – for god’s sake look after him this time.” Sebastian looks genuinely angry as he addresses Jensen, and Jensen resents the implication that he hasn’t looked after Misha up to now, even though he knows he hasn’t really, because he didn’t see the point over a couple of unlucky accidents. But he has no intention of not looking after him now and he doesn’t need Sebastian to tell him to. He gives Sebastian a dirty look and puts a protective hand on Misha’s back, rubbing gently, as they both get their breath back. 

 

Misha opens his eyes and looks confused and scared and starts to fret, moving restlessly. Jensen slides his fingers into Misha’s hair and turns down to face him, planting a kiss on his temple. “It’s okay, Mish. Lie still. You’ll be okay in a minute.” 

 

Sebastian raises an eyebrow and mutters something that Jensen doesn’t quite understand about some things being the same in every goddamn universe. When Sebastian runs off, Jensen’s quite pleased because Sebastian’s being a complete ass, even if he’s grateful he was there when they needed him.

 

Sebastian doesn’t come back in the next few minutes and given that Jensen can still smell whatever it is that has knocked them senseless and that for all he knows the whole trailer could be about to go up in flames he comes to the conclusion that getting out is a good idea. Misha’s still mostly out of it and other than dragging him bodily over the trailer steps, which is really going to hurt, Jensen decides he needs backup. Typically, of course, Sebastian, who was the only other person around has buggered off somewhere else. 

 

He dials Jared’s number, but the phone’s off. He tries Jim. Same thing. He needs someone not on set. Yeah, right, Sherlock. Why can’t he think straight? Clif. Why hasn’t he rung Clif first? He rings Clif and Jensen thanks whichever god’s still answering his prayers when Clif picks up on the second ring.

 

“Yo, Jensen” Clif’s enquiring, friendly voice comes over the phone.

 

“Clif, it’s an emergency. Where are you? I need you at Misha’s trailer now.”

 

Jensen’s relieved that Clif wastes no time asking questions. “I’ll be there in two minutes”.

 

By the time Clif arrives at a run, Misha’s waking up properly and Jensen’s starting to feel like his lungs are his own again. Clif and Jensen take an arm each and together help Misha out of the trailer, Misha muttering all the while about how unbelievably fucking ridiculous the day’s turning out to be and Jensen decides the fact that he’s got the energy to complain is a good sign.

 

With Jensen and Misha outside, seemingly in no immediate danger, and propped against someone’s car, Misha leans in against Jensen, and Jensen folds one of his hands in his own and pulls him in tight with the other arm round his shoulders. Jensen knows it’s a fair indicator of how unwell Misha feels that he doesn’t pull away, but Jensen doesn’t call him on it, in case he does. 

 

While they wait, Clif goes exploring to check out the trailer and comes back a few minutes later. “There’s no fire” he reports. “I can’t see anything wrong at all.”

 

Jensen frowns. “There must be something.”

 

“Nothing, but I’ll get one of the maintenance guys to have a look.” Clif looks at Jensen and Misha. Jensen looks healthy now, Misha still leaning against Jensen looks a bit woozy, but much better. “You guys ok? You need a doctor? Hospital?”

 

Jensen shakes his head. “I feel fine now. Mish?” he turns to the man next to him.

 

“No, I’m good” Misha says sighing and shuffling upright, removing his weight from Jensen. Jensen reluctantly lets him go.

 

Clif goes off to find someone from maintenance to check out the trailer and Misha turns towards Jensen and gives him the benefit of the intense bright, blue-eyed gaze Jensen can’t get enough of. “Thanks, Jensen. God knows … if you hadn’t been there…” he trails off. 

 

“Actually, if Sebastian hadn’t been there.” Misha frowns in curiosity but Jensen doesn’t elaborate, looking around but there’s no sign of Sebastian anywhere. “Um, Mish?” Jensen asks, unusually hesitant. 

 

“Yup?”

 

“Is something going on? It’s just, well, your hand last night, the door this morning, and now this and it’s only mid-afternoon.” 

 

“Yeah, I know. I don’t believe in coincidences either. Come with me. I want to check something.”

 

Misha grabs Jensen’s hand and drags him round the back of the trailer. 

 

“What are we doing? Clif already checked the trailer.”

 

“Hmm. But he won’t have checked for … a-ha!” Near the back corner of the trailer there are some symbols in charcoal.

 

Misha grins. “Just because you’re paranoid, it doesn’t mean they’re not out to get you”.

 

Jensen looks down. “What are those?”

 

“They’re Enochian sigils,” Sebastian says from nearby and they turn to see him walking towards them and the trailer. He points to the sigil. “This bit here is about power and control. This here, “ he moves his finger sideways, “names the angel, Amriel, and this one here,” his finger slides to the center, “is about death.” Sebastian’s eyes slide up to meet Misha’s. “Are you starting to believe me that we have a problem, here?”

 

“Sebastian…” Misha begins but he’s interrupted.

 

“Balthazar.” Sebastian’s voice says.

 

“What the fuck’s going on?” Jensen asked.

 

“Let’s go for a little chat somewhere cozy shall we boys?” suggests Balthazar, tilting his head slightly in a way that isn’t Sebastian, but also isn’t the way Sebastian plays Balthazar.

 

Settled in Jensen’s trailer, Balthazar’s impatient and as far as Jensen’s concerned, talking a lot of made-up tosh, but Misha looks as if he’s starting to believe it, or at least he’s not interrupting. Misha’s not normally that gullible and the fact that Misha’s listening is the only reason that Jensen’s still listening. Jensen and Misha sit on the couch, Jensen holding tight onto Misha’s hand. Misha’s giving him odd looks which Jensen knows is because they aren’t normally this touchy-feely when they’re not at home, but he just feels the need to cling right now so Misha’s going to have to deal.

 

“Listen carefully,” Balthazar starts, “I’m only going to say this once. Your reality is one of only a few that house a vessel Cassie can use. In your case,” he points to Misha “you’re not quite a perfect fit, you’d maybe last a couple of weeks, but that’ll be better than nothing if it becomes necessary.” Jensen’s fairly sure that he’s less than comfortable with that assessment and he scowls. 

 

“Raphael found out,” Balthazar continues but scowls right back when Jensen snorts derision. “Don’t laugh and listen,” Jensen does what he’s told. For some reason, Sebastian sounds dangerous right now and commanding.

 

“Raphael sent assassins to several realities to kill the vessels. Well, that’s only secondary, but now it’s all that’s left. We didn’t know which realities. We had to wait for certain events to trigger a warning to us. Last night your reality triggered a warning. There’s a point of crossover between the realities. You aired a television show that showed some events that happened in our universe. So I came here. I’m supposed to kill the angel who’s been sent to kill Misha before he succeeds. Any questions? No? good.” Balthazar gives them no chance to ask any questions but Jensen isn’t sure he can ask anything other than ‘have you taken your pills today?’ because seriously?

 

“So, Supernatural is real? That’s what you’re telling us?” he asks instead.

 

Balthazar eyes him with impatience. “In your case, very little of your show is real. It just so happens that there’s a couple of points of crossover. But it’s enough.”

 

And because Misha’s strangely quiet, Jensen continues. “And someone’s trying to kill Misha?”

 

“They will. All this stuff so far is just posturing. That gas wouldn’t have killed you, or the trailer door stunt, which to be honest was just luck, or the blade in the car door.”

 

“How do you know about that?” Misha asked surprised, because he’s only told Jensen.

 

“There’s a sigil on your car. Come on, boys, get with the program. This is happening. I can’t be there all the time, I need to find Amriel because I don’t know when the posturing will turn into the real thing. It might be in the next half hour, it might be weeks from now.”

 

“This is fucking stupid,” Misha suddenly declares loudly, standing up, shaking his head and pulling his hand out of Jensen’s. “Sebastian…Balthazar, whatever your name is, I’m not falling for this. It’s a joke and it’s not very funny. Seb, you’re a friend and I have no idea where you’re going with this but stop now.” He turns and fuming, leaves the trailer.

 

Balthazar eyes Jensen who’s rooted to the spot. “You’ve nothing to lose by keeping an eye on him have you? Even if I am joking. Amriel is more likely to try something if Misha’s on his own.”

 

Jensen doesn’t answer, but stands also. “Get out, Sebastian.” He hesitates, before adding, “but I will keep an eye on him.”

 

Balthazar nods and leaves. Jensen waits a few seconds, taking deep breaths and processing before sighing and leaving the trailer, he hurries to find Misha.

 

He hasn’t gone far. Jensen grabs his elbow from behind as he catches up with him.

 

Jensen looks down at his feet and kick a bit of dust around before looking back up at Misha, feeling slightly ridiculous as he blurts out “promise me, for the rest of the day at least, you’ll stay with someone and not wander off on your own? Take me or Jared or Clif.”

 

“What? Everywhere?” Misha asked still obviously annoyed, but Jensen doesn’t smile, and his face holds a frown and worry sits uncomfortably on his features. Misha feels sorry for him and seeks to reassure him, squeezing Jensen’s forearm and giving a quiet, but sincere, “Okay, I promise”.

 

\--xxx—

 

In the small workshop at the back of the lot, the grinding wheel turns slowly, sparks flying as the metal slides against the stone. Amriel’s ready. The grinding wheel stops and he turns the blade in his hand admiring the sharp edges. Yes, he’s ready. He has his blade, the games are over. 

Castiel’s vessel won’t have a chance against Amriel with a blade, even if he’s without his abilities, his skill with the blade more than makes up for it. Much as he’s enjoyed the teasing, the time has come to go home.

 

\--xxx—

 

The long day’s finally drawing to a close and Misha can only say he’s happy about that. He’s not sure he’s ever felt so tired in his life. His head hurts, his knees hurt, and whether the gas was going to kill him or not it did a pretty good job of making his brain feel mushy.

 

The maintenance guy has reported a fault on the heater in the trailer that has caused all the fumes to fill the bedroom rather than escape out of the flue. Misha’s not convinced but he keeps his doubts to himself because Jensen’s paranoia has lifted slightly as a result of what seems an innocent explanation. Misha’s still found himself under Jensen’s watchful gaze all day and with one or more constant companions but if he has to admit it to himself it isn’t a state of affairs he’s entirely unhappy with. He hasn’t seen Sebastian since the conversation in Jensen’s trailer and he’s not at all unhappy about that either.

 

He’s broken out of his reverie by hands resting on his shoulders and a breath of warm air on the back of his neck. “You’re coming home with me tonight” Jensen’s voice brooks no argument and Misha doesn’t mind. His own small rented apartment is only an occasional bolt hole anyway these days.

 

“Hey, Jensen, put him down.” Jared pulls a face, that turns into a smile as Jensen eye-rolls. “You coming with us?” Jared looks at them both, turning his head to nod at where Clif waits. 

 

Misha lets Jensen and Jared sort out the logistics while he yawns and waits, not really minding. They end up with Jared going on with Clif and Misha and Jensen take Misha’s car so he can get in easier in the morning, but Jensen drives. Jensen didn’t inhale quite so much of the gas in the trailer and is much more likely to get them home alive.

 

They don’t see Amriel watching them leave, frustrated, from the shadows.

 

Misha’s woken by Jensen gently shaking his shoulder while the car sits, metal ticking as it cools, in Jensen’s drive. “C’mon, Man. We’re home.”

 

He stretches out of the car and follows Jensen in to the apartment, kicking off his shoes, and hanging his jacket with easy familiarity. He finds some mellow music to put on, and although he knows it’s not exactly Jensen’s favorite, he knows Jensen will allow him this indulgence.

 

Jensen comes into the lounge with the bottle of Makers Mark, two glasses and a bucket of ice and they settle on the couch but Misha knows they won’t be up for long given they’re both tired. Jensen’s fingers brush the hair away from the bruise on his head solicitously and he can’t help wincing. 

 

“Sorry.” Jensen withdraws his hand quickly in apology, buy Misha shakes his head slightly to let him know it’s okay, it’s not important.

 

Misha pulls Jensen in to lie with his back to Misha’s chest. “Jen?’

 

“Hmmm?”

 

“What do you think about Sebastian?”

 

“Do you mean, do I think he’s Balthazar? And there’s an angel out to get you because you’re Cas’ vessel?”

 

“Um. It does sound kind of ridiculous.”

 

“I think you’ve had a crappy day,” says Jensen, tipping his head back and round on Misha’s shoulder to look at his face, “but I think Seb’s pulling some kind of prank. I’m just not sure what it is yet. It’s too ludicrous to be true.” Jensen pauses, then asks “what do you think?”

 

“The same as you really, but I can’t see what Seb’s game is, and he’s not usually cruel.”

 

They drift into a comfortable silence drinking the bourbon and listening to the music. Jensen’s hot against Misha’s chest and a hand is sitting easy on his thigh and on most other nights they’d be all over each other by now but tonight he’s unbelievably tired and he’s happy just to relax, and Jensen seems to be too. Not for the first time, Misha enjoys the ease of their synchronicity. He knows that what they have will last long beyond whatever happens to the show. He kisses the top of Jensen’s head in appreciation and love as the alcohol works its magic, making him sleepy and content.

 

\--xxx—

 

Misha wakes up to the alarm going off, and he’s still on the couch. He’s got blankets and pillows around him and water on the coffee table. He doesn’t remember falling asleep, or Jensen getting up or the magical appearance of the bedding, or even the removal of his jeans to leave him in boxers and t-shirt. He’s a heavy sleeper but even he marvels at that. He must have been too far gone to even make it to the bedroom. He thumps the alarm to shut it up. He guesses he should be relieved that he woke up to that. It must be conditioning.

 

The events of yesterday seem even more ludicrous after a night’s sleep, in the cold dawn light and he can’t understand how they even gave credence to any of Sebastian’s ramblings.

 

Jensen doesn’t have to be in as early as him, so Misha makes coffee, and leaves a thermos cup on the nightstand by Jensen’s sleeping head before letting himself out and driving to work. Clif will pick Jensen up later as usual. Misha yawns and wishes he had a driver.

 

Jared’s on set, which is surprising. He doesn’t have to be here this morning so Misha raises an eyebrow in a query.

 

“Um, I just wanted to be here, that’s all,” Jared mutters while they wait for their coffee to be ground and frothed.

 

“You never want to be here in the mornings,” Misha says suspiciously. “What’s up.”

 

“Nothing.” Jared doesn’t sound very convincing.

 

When Misha starts walking across the lot towards his trailer to put his jacket away, Jared follows. Misha turns on him. “Why are you following me?” he accuses, with narrowing eyes.

 

“It’s my shift,” Jared mutters a little awkwardly.

 

“Your what?” Misha asks incredulously.

 

“My shift. Um, we have a rota. I have the first two hours this morning.” Despite obviously deciding to confess, Jared still looks embarrassed.

 

“Please tell me you’re kidding?”

 

“Nope he’s not,” says a familiar voice Misha definitely doesn’t want to hear at 7 o fuck in the morning. 

 

He turns to find Sebastian bearing down on them. “Who are you this morning,” he asks facetiously, “Sebastian or Balthazar?”

 

“Still Balthazar.” Jared looks confused and Misha remembers he wasn’t around for much of the weird conversations yesterday.

 

“Well, Balthazar, leave me the fuck alone,” says Misha storming off. And to think he was in a good mood when he woke up.

 

When he gets to his trailer, someone’s drawn a sigil on one of the windows and the door’s unlocked. His bravado disappears far enough and fast enough to turn him round towards Jensen’s trailer instead. He’s not sure how he’s going to explain that to all the people he’s told to fuck of for worrying and being ridiculous.

 

In the event, that’s all that happens that day, and as the day goes on things ease back to normal. Misha didn’t actually tell anyone about his trailer this morning and he’s glad. He’s fairly sure it’ll be Sebastian and Jared messing with him and he wouldn’t give them the satisfaction.

 

After they’ve had to reshoot one scene 7 times to get it right because Jared keeps running his hands up Misha’s thigh out of shot, Misha reckons he can definitely say things are back to normal, even if he has to wait till one in the morning to go home. No-one’s seen Sebastian since this morning and it’s a weird-ass freaky world when that’s a really good thing because the guy’s not usually this odd.

 

“You coming home with me tonight?” Jensen asks as they walk away from Wardrobe. “I might even let you share the bed tonight,” he laughs, his pleasure at the normal day showing in his easy manner.

 

He still looks relieved though when Misha nods in the affirmative. “I need to pop home to get some clean clothes first though.”

 

“I’ll come with you.” 

 

“No need. I’ll be quick.”

 

“Then let Clif go with you?” Jensen’s nerves are coming back, not as far under the surface as Misha’d thought and he relents.

 

“Okay, we’ll just drive past mine on the way.”

 

“Yeah, great.” Jensen’s eyes speak the unsaid thanks. “I just need to get something from the van.”

 

“I’ll drive round to meet you,” Misha says loudly as Jensen peels off to catch Jared up and Misha turns to walk to his car. He starts to wind down, luxuriating in the thought that in an hour he’ll be home and can soak his aches in a hot tub before crawling into bed and surrendering to 6 hours of comatose bliss with Jensen.

 

Misha eases into his car, shuffling in his seat to get his driving position just right and reaches round for the seatbelt. But then he stops, his hand still holding the belt but not pulling it towards him to do up and trap him. The hairs rise on the back of his neck. What’s that line he says in The French Mistake? Do you ever get that feeling there’s someone in the backseat of the car? Something like that. And he does. He definitely gets that feeling. Not a good feeling. Not a good feeling at all. He’s starting to dislike that episode. 

 

He feels, before he sees, the arm coming round him to encircle his throat, something glinting in the hand, and he ducks out of the way, scrambling for the door handle. The guy in the back seat’s hampered by the large driver’s seat, and when Misha ducks low he can’t seem to get round at him. Misha takes the chance he has and he grabs the door handle and throws himself out of the car, landing on his hands and knees with a gasped cry of pain as his earlier grazes and bruises kick up a fuss. 

 

His assailant’s out of the car before Misha has a chance to recover, and Misha follows the line from the sneakers up the thin, denim-clad legs to a hoodie, with the hood pulled up, the face in shadow. 

 

Misha pulls himself up quickly from his vulnerable position on the ground, twisting backwards away from the blade that arcs towards him. He steps back as he rises feeling the car door behind him and takes his first proper look at his attacker. An unassuming, average height, average weight, average everything kind of youngish man. With a fucking Angel Blade in his hand. Misha catches the shine of the metal on sharp edges in the weak midnight lighting. The guy hasn’t attacked again but is standing regarding Misha, weighing him up. Misha feels a weird sense of inappropriate pride that he’s not quite the easy pushover the guy expected.

 

“Who the hell are you?” he asks, buying time because he knows that if he doesn’t drive past to pick up Jensen soon, Jensen will come looking. Hopefully with Jared and Clif.

 

“Amriel, an Angel of the Lord,” Amriel announces with the same gravity that Misha does when he’s playing Castiel. All Misha can think is it’s the same name Sebastian-Balthazar gave them, and if this was some kind of Sebastian prank, the guy would definitely not be coming after him with a lethal weapon. He hopes. Which means it might all be true and that is fucking with his head. But in the meantime, focusing on survival seems like a good plan.

 

Misha’s eyes track back up to the man’s face from where they’d been mesmerized in horror by the blade in his hand. He makes a quick sweep of the surrounding area, looking for backup, anyone would be good. He can still hear voices, but he can’t see the remaining cast and crew in the night. He’s getting ready to yell for help, when with a quick move of his empty hand Amriel forces Misha against the car with a solid punch to his chest. He hadn’t seen it coming. The breath is forced from his lungs by the impact, and his yell is cut off before it can escape. Misha makes a small grunt, but not loud enough to be heard. 

 

Amriel’s face twists suddenly sadistically and Misha takes a half-step back along the car in fright. Amriel moves a step further forward and Misha compensates by moving a step further away, but with the car at his back all he can manage is to slide further along towards the hood. He’s considering making a run for it but he doesn’t have a real shot. Amriel’s in the way of the only clear path from where he is and that blade in his hand looks all too real.

 

“Come on, man, it’s just a show. I’m not Castiel” he tries reasoning through still-ragged breaths, half-heartedly, not really expecting a result.

 

He gets a result, but not the one he’s hoping for. Misha’s statement just seems to enrage the man further and he leans in and spits out “I’m not stupid; don’t take me for a fool. Of course you’re not Castiel.” 

 

Misha takes another couple of steps away, but Amriel moves closer, compensating, keeping the gap between them the same, no more than a step or two, too small for Misha’s liking. Amriel could reach him now with the blade if he wanted but for some reason he still waits and watches. He has a small smile curling the corner of his lip that Misha thinks is enjoyment.

 

“Raphael is going to reward me for your death,” Amriel sneers and Misha feels like making some kind of snippy comment but bites his tongue. This is not the time. 

 

Instead, Misha’s got his breath back now and he uses it to good purpose to yell across the parking lot for the biggest person around, "JARED" with urgency. Even if his big friend won’t fight the aggressor, he’ll scare the shit out of him. He follows it up quickly, while he can, before Amriel moves, with “JENS…” but he doesn’t get the chance to finish Jensen’s name.

 

The pain in Misha’s side that has cut him off mid-yell is like nothing he’s ever experienced before. He feels as if he’s been ripped open and someone has lit a bonfire in his gut. It takes his breath and shocks him into silence. He staggers and the pain if anything becomes so much worse with the movement causing loud protests from every nerve in his body and he gasps and blinks away the tears that come to his eyes. 

 

Even if Jared and Jensen didn’t hear him, someone had to – surely? They had to. Please. He hasn’t the breath or the strength to shout again. 

 

He’s always thought he’d go out in a bike accident, or fall off a cliff or get eaten by a bear or something less pathetic than being stabbed by a madman obsessing about a TV show. He looks up through frightened, wide eyes at his attacker. Just lifting his head takes all his energy. He hitches one hip against the hood to steady himself, to stop himself falling, as instinct tells him falling won’t be good, while he fights to gain control of his body and his breathing and his pain.

 

Amriel takes a step away from Misha, smug satisfaction on his face and gloating in his eyes, looking at his handiwork. Misha thinks he should probably have a look at his handiwork too, but, looking down, he wishes he hadn’t. The hilt of the angel blade is sticking out at an angle from his side, blood’s seeping fast through his multiple warm layers of shirts and sweatshirts, too much blood. 

 

He feels lightheaded and sways a little by the car, instinctively putting his hand out to support himself; not a good idea. Jarring agony shoots through his damaged body as his hand touches the car and sends a shockwave up his arm with a direct line to the wound in his side. In a single breath he exhales the little air he has left in his lungs, unable to breathe, unable to make a sound, unable to think. The only sound he can hear are his body’s screams, so loud in his head that it blocks out all other noise.

 

\--xxx--

 

Jared, standing beside the van, has heard something and breaks off his conversation with Jensen with a finger over his lips. He tilts his head, “did you hear that?”

 

Jensen listens. “Hear what? No I don’t hear anything”.

 

“JENS….”

 

“But I heard that! That’s Misha!” The yell sounds desperate and scared, the sound cut off mid-word isn’t right and Jensen feels his chest grip tight and he can’t breathe but he’s on some kind of auto pilot as he starts to move off towards the sound. 

 

Jared grabs one arm to stop him, temporarily. “MISHA? YOU OK?” Jared yells questioning, listening for a response. None comes. He leans into the car, where Clif waits patiently. “Back in a minute, we’re just going to check on Misha”. Clif nods, climbing out to follow after them, just in case, while Jensen hurries to keep up with Jared’s long stride when Jared takes off across the lot.

 

They’re nearly at Misha’s trailer, with less than 50 meters to go, and from the angle they’re approaching they can easily see Misha’s car and two people standing next to it. Jensen can’t make out much in the dark, but can see that the person standing with his back to the car is Misha. He’s ridiculously relieved that he’s upright and seems to be still and calm; he hears Jared let out a short breath beside him, obviously agreeing with the sentiment. Jensen starts to slow down a little as they continue to approach and nothing looks wrong and Jared does too, naturally keeping pace alongside.

 

Speaking loudly so that his voice covers the remaining distance Jensen calls out to try again to get a response. “Misha, you ok?” Misha doesn’t acknowledge him, but the other man snaps his head round to look at them, then quickly turns back to Misha. Jensen feels all the adrenalin surging back in a rush because Misha’s not answering him, the guy with him is looking aggressive and the closer they get, the more it becomes clear that Misha’s standing at an odd angle and the more the scene just looks wrong.

 

They’re still too far away and they can’t do anything but watch as the man with Misha puts his hand to Misha’s side and as his hand comes away, Misha screams, his head snaps up and his body curls in like he’s trying to crawl backwards through the fiber-glass shell of the car. Jensen and Jared look on in horror, shocked into inaction, at the man’s hand which now holds in it a perfect replica angel blade that glints in the light of the nearest lamp and drips blood onto the ground below. Finally brains and limbs kick in again and they run forwards towards the car. The man by the car turns and runs.

 

Jensen heads straight for Misha and Jared starts to go after the attacker but Clif, who’s close behind them, gets there first, crossing the lot at an angle and chasing hard on his heels, so Jared pulls up and turns back to his friends. 

 

Jensen reaches Misha first, taking his upper arm firmly in his hands. “What happened?” Jensen asked urgently, turning towards Misha’s bowed head, feeling his body shaking and trembling next to him.

 

Misha’s head may be hung low but he’s standing and Jensen tries to convince himself everything’s ok with thoughts that maybe it isn’t too bad…maybe just a scratch…maybe just a bit of blood, with no real damage. Probably stitched up in no time and, knowing Misha, back at work tomorrow. 

 

Misha’s struggle through jagged breaths to answer Jensen’s question isn’t helping with Jensen’s conviction though. “It’s okay, Mish. You don’t need to answer. It can wait.” 

 

Misha nods so slightly Jensen would have missed it if he wasn’t already finely attuned to Misha’s body language. It’s only that that makes him realize with sudden fright that he’s hurting Misha every time his body shifts and twitches in response to his anger and fear. While he forcibly commands his body to be still he can’t help worrying what the hell kind of injury leads to that much pain.

 

Jensen’s thankful when Jared’s gets back from his aborted chase and takes Misha’s other arm in his huge hand. There’s pained concern in his face, and pleading in his voice, as he directs questions at Jensen and Misha and anyone who will listen. “Is he ok? Misha, are you ok? You’re ok, right?” 

 

Neither Jensen nor Misha answer. Instead Jensen lowers his head, moving slightly round and in front, trying to read Misha’s face, trying to see what they are dealing with here. 

 

Misha slowly and with visible effort lifts his head up a little, far enough to meet Jensen’s searching gaze. And Jensen looks into his eyes, so deep, their connection tangible, an invisible line connecting them. And Jensen knows. He knows it isn’t just a scratch. He knows this is very, very bad. 

 

“J..Jensen ….. it fucking hurts”, barely more than sound in a wisp of air passes Misha’s lips, and even that seems too much.

 

Jensen’s eyes keep focus with Misha’s, letting him know that he means what he’s about to say “I know. We’ll fix it. Just stay with me, ok.” His hand moves up to his lover’s face, cradling his jaw, supporting his head upright and preventing his gaze from slipping away. Jensen feels that if he loses Misha’s focus, he’ll lose Misha and that isn’t going to happen.

 

Misha slides a little down the car. His body stiffens with the shock of the pain the movement causes. He takes a sharp breath. Jensen grips harder and Jared’s longer arms slip round Misha’s back in time to stop him slipping further. 

 

The remaining stragglers from the days filming have all appeared drawn by the noise. Clif’s among them sorrowfully shaking his head, letting them know he hasn’t caught Misha’s attacker. Nine shocked faces stared at the tableau, but Jensen only has eyes for Misha.

 

“Someone. Ring for a damn ambulance”. Jared’s shouting, raw, edgy, fear in his voice. 

 

“Already done. It’s on its way. A helicopter. Ten minutes they said,” Jensen hears a voice reply, not knowing who, not caring because all he heard was ten minutes and ten minutes might be too long. He looks over Misha’s head at Jared for reassurance but none’s forthcoming. Jared looks as devastated as he feels. Jensen doesn’t know what he’ll do if Misha dies. Tears prick at his eyes in frustration at his utter and complete helplessness.

 

He shuts the thoughts out and moves the hand he’s holding against Misha’s jaw to place it behind his head, as Misha’s head grows heavier. His fingers lightly grip the thick dark hair “Stay with me, Mish, ok? We’ve got you” he speaks quietly, trying to offer comfort, biting the inside of his cheek in an attempt to keep his voice steady. Misha says nothing, and his eyelids start to close over his eyes, which are slowly losing focus.

 

“Misha, don’t close your eyes, stay awake” Jared speaks to him sharply, his voice unnaturally high and Misha’s eyes re-open a little.

 

Misha’s becoming heavier in their grip, as he slips through semi-consciousness. Jensen shifts round so that he can draw Misha closer to him and he feels him relax a little so that his back and side are leaning into Jensen, and Jensen, wedged between Misha and the car, can hold him better. Jensen’s arm positions itself round Misha’s chest, holding him in place. With Jared still gripping him tight from the other side, they try and stop him falling. 

 

But it isn’t enough. Misha’s legs finally give out under him and light though he is, it’s impossible to hold him safely and comfortably upright with no help from Misha himself.

 

“Where’s that fucking ambulance?” Jensen has never been so scared in all his life. 

 

Misha’s weight starts to pull Jensen down and he decides not to resist it, but controls his slide slowly down the car, holding tight onto his charge, keeping himself braced against the car, as he lowers them to the ground. Jared changes his grip from Misha to Jensen to help control the descent and Jensen ends up on his backside with his back to the car, Misha’s back close against Jensen’s chest, head resting on his shoulder, legs stretched out in front of them. Misha’s eyes are flickering between closed and half-open, his face screwed up in distress, gasping moans are coming out as stuttering breaths against Jensen’s neck. As they reach the ground, Misha’s eyes fall closed and don’t reopen.

 

“Wake him up”, Jensen can hear the high pitch of panic in Jared’s voice.

 

Jensen’s not sure it’s not a kindness to let him sleep, but he whispers into Misha’s ear, as calmly as he can manage, “Wake up Misha. Please wake up. You’re scaring Jared. And me a little, actually. Please wake up. I know you can. Just for a little while longer. The ambulance will be here soon. Then you can go to sleep. But just for now, I need you to wake up. Please wake up”.

 

The dark lashes flutter a little and the lids open heavily, then start to slip closed again, but Jensen isn’t having any of that. “Don’t you dare, you bastard. Now you’re awake, you stay awake!” And the lids open again, semi-focused on Jensen’s face, and unbelievably a small Castiel style smile briefly flickers.

 

Misha’s injuries look worse now he’s lying down, or perhaps just more exposed and obvious and Jensen’s trying hard not to focus on that but Jared takes off his scarf, folds it into a wad and with a “Sorry, Misha, but this is going to hurt”, he lifts up Misha’s layers of clothes, and searching out the heavily leaking wound from amongst all the blood spread over Misha’s abdomen, side and chest, he pushes the wad of scarf down, trying to stem the flow.

 

Misha’s whole body shudders from the sudden pain and his right hand, the one not held close to his side against Jensen’s body, scrabbles desperately at the dust. He lets loose a series of sobbing cries, and Jared reaches for Misha’s hand with his free one and holds it tight, while the worst of the pain gradually subsides. “I’m so sorry, Misha”, the anguish in Jared’s face’s is plain for all to see at the pain he’s causing his friend, but he keeps the scarf in place.

 

Jensen looks up. Has he hears a sound of helicopter rotors or is it just wishful thinking? 

 

Jared too, looks up. Definitely a helicopter. 

 

“Thank fuck”. Jensen starts to talk as he turns his head back down with the good news. “It’s the helicopter Mish. It’s going to be ok, just a little ….” As his head finished its arc from skyward to Misha’s face, he stops talking. Misha isn’t listening. Jensen can’t feel the warmth of Misha’s breath. He can’t see or feel the beat of his heart where before it fluttered obviously in Misha’s neck. 

 

Jared turns his head quickly back down to Misha and Jensen when he hears Jensen pause, and his words catches in his throat “is he …”

 

Jensen’s face twists in his own sort of pain. “I don’t know. I can’t feel him breathing. I don’t know”. His voice is rising stretched and filled with dread, he looks from Misha’s lifeless form back to Jared, not knowing what else to do or say.

 

The clamor of the arrival of the helicopter breaks through the agony of his thoughts and in less than a minute, capable hands are all around him, taking Misha away from him, moving him gently but quickly away so they can do their job. He doesn’t want to let Misha go, holds on while he can, but has to back off to watch from the side while the medical team work efficiently, doing their emergency repairs, fitting tubes and respirators and piles of wadding, eventually loading Misha onto a stretcher and into the waiting helicopter.

 

The shocked observers seem reluctant to disperse once the helicopter has taken off, but Jensen and Jared leave with Clif to go straight to the hospital. On the way, they ring a few of the people that need to know. Everyone’s suitably shocked but Jensen wishes they’d save their obituaries. He can’t listen to the people on the end of the phone and their distant concern, however genuine it is and his calls are as short as he can get away with, cutting people off mid-flow sometimes. Jared has finished his calls and is sitting looking forwards, staring at who knows what, and Jensen has no strength to give him, so tied up is he in his own agony.

 

The news they receive when they reached the hospital brings them only minor relief. Misha’s gone straight into theatre, so at least he’s still alive, but beyond that no-one’s saying much on his chances of survival one way or the other. Jensen all but collapses on a waiting room chair, his head dropping to his knees and he’s going to cry, but it’s only Jared that’s here with him and Jared’s seen it before. He’s immensely grateful when Jared sits down next to him and silently holds Jensen for the ten minutes it takes to get it out of his system. 

 

The police turn up fairly quickly and Jensen and Jared pass on what they know, which isn’t that much. Jared tells them about the accidents on set but they seem to write them off as coincidence, which maybe they were. They go after a while but say they’ll be back.

 

Ben and Sera turn up about six hours into surgery, but to no further news. Except that Misha’s still alive. They cast long, worried glances at Jensen, still wearing the clothes coated in Misha’s blood. Jensen leaves Jared to tell them what they haven’t already got from others. He’s wrapped up in his own thoughts and doesn’t trust himself to speak.

 

After ten hours a weary doctor comes through to the waiting room. He’s not smiling and Jensen prepares himself for the worst.

 

“Are any of you family?” he asked

 

“I’m his partner,” Jensen stands up, speaking a little croakily as his mouth is unexpectedly dry. He ignores Sera’s quick glance his way. Sera probably didn’t know they were a couple. Not everyone does. He’s glad the doctor doesn’t ask for proof because the legal documents they had drawn up last year that cover medical decisions are all at home and he needs to know how Misha is right now.

 

“Well, he’s alive.” Jensen seems to deflate as the tension he feels throughout his body is released and he sits back down on the chair with a thud as his knees are suddenly too weak to hold him while the doctor continues. “We’ve repaired the damage from the wound and stopped the bleeding. The knife’s a strange one, and did a lot of ripping but we think we got it all. We’ll know in a few hours. Misha lost a huge amount of blood though. I don’t know how he’s still with us, to be frank.”

 

“So”, Jared asks tentatively, “is he going to be ok?”

 

“Sorry, too soon to tell”, replies the doctor, not without sympathy, but Jensen can tell he’s done this speech too many times before. “The next 48 hours is critical. I don’t think he’ll wake up on his own in that time but to be sure we’ll keep him in an induced coma as he stands more chance if he’s resting. You can see him for 5 minutes. Just two of you, sorry” he adds as Sera and Ben stand up. “It’s a good sign that he made it through surgery, but he’s by no means out of the woods”.

 

Misha looks so pale and ill lying unconscious on the bed in a hospital gown that Jensen’s emotions almost get the better of him again, but Jared’s hand on his arm grounds him and he steps up to the bed, Jared hanging back slightly. Misha has tubes going in and coming out, and the steady beeping of the heart monitor as background. His heart’s slow but Jensen doesn’t know whether that’s from the injuries or from the drugs. He runs his fingers up Misha’s face into his hair, lightly brushing the bruise from two days ago that’s the least of his worries now, and kisses him on his forehead, the easiest place to get to without having to negotiate all the medical equipment. They sit with him for their allowed 5 minutes, and as they’re ushered out of the room, Jensen has a parting shot, whispered in Misha’s ear “Misha, if you die, I’ll fucking kill you”. Jared almost smiles.

 

They tell Jensen that he can go back in and stay with Misha if he wants to wait for a short time, so he waits while Jared, Sera and Ben go back to set to work out some logistics. 

 

Jensen notices the security people that start arriving at the hospital. Misha’s attacker is still free. Luckily they keep an unobtrusive distance.

 

The first day’s the worst. 

 

Jensen sits in Misha’s room quietly holding his hand or barraging him with instructions to get better and trying to ignore the lack of movement or change as Misha continues to lie there small and vulnerable. Nurses come and go and check and read equipment, giving him sympathetic smiles as they fuss around. He only leaves to go to the bathroom and then he hurries convinced Misha will die while he’s out of the room. Jared brought him some clean clothes and took the bloody ones away so at least he no longer looks like he works in an abattoir.

 

Jared calls from the set when he can and Jensen mostly has no news, but later that day he’s able to relay that the doctor reports they’re fairly confident they’ve repaired all the damage as Misha has remained stable over the few hours since the operation. When Jensen tries to find out what that means for Misha’s chances, the doctor remains non-committal.

 

It’s soon after that that Balthazar turns up. 

 

Jensen looks up as he sneaks into the room with a look thrown over his shoulder that indicates he’s probably already been told he can’t come in.

 

“He’s not dead,” Balthazar states the obvious, wandering over to the bed, bending down to peer at Misha from a distance of only a few inches and lifting Misha’s arm to feel the pulse in his wrist.

 

Jensen leaps from his seat on the other side of the bed. “No thanks to you, asshole! Get away from him.”

 

Balthazar lifts his eyes to look at Jensen’s and does actually move away from the bed. Jensen moves round the bed to stand as a barrier between Misha and Balthazar. “I thought you were supposed to protect him,” he hisses. “Where the fuck were you?”

 

Balthazar seems vaguely embarrassed but also genuinely contrite, like he actually cares, at least a little. “I tried. Amriel locked me in some bloody shed. Damned magic-less realities; reduced to human strength for god’s sake! But he’ll come here.”

 

“What?!” Jensen’s mortified.

 

“Misha’s not dead.” Balthazar points out, again. “Amriel needs to fix that.” 

 

“You have to stop him.” Jensen automatically leans back to grip Misha’s hand as he repeats in a whisper, “you have to stop him.”

 

Balthazar looks as if he’s going to say something else but doesn’t. He doesn’t point out that Misha’s future is tentative at best anyway. Jensen’s grateful at least for that. “I don’t know where he is,” Balthazar finally admits. “It’s probably best if I stay here.” Jensen’s not happy with that. He doesn’t want company, least of all Balthazar’s, but when Balthazar pulls out a small automatic pistol from one pocket and two evil-looking knives from other folds in his clothing, Jensen decides he can live with the inconvenience if it means Misha’s kept safe.

 

Jared turns up later that evening and looks surprised to see Sebastian and Jensen remembers that Jared still doesn’t know the whole story. He explains but even to his ears it sounds ridiculous. It doesn’t help that Balthazar watches the whole time with a look of disdain, listening to every word because Jensen won’t leave Misha’s room and neither will he.

 

Watching Balthazar suspiciously, Jared obviously doesn’t believe a word of what Jensen tells him but isn’t going to argue. Jared has some bad news. Clif, apparently is mightily relieved that Misha has made it out of surgery alive and has tweeted as much; an action that has caused a major international, not to mention studio executive, panic as no-one has previously shared the situation or Misha’s condition with anyone outside the immediate Supernatural family and Misha’s own family. Vigils are expected as are masses of fans around the set. It’s going to get busy in an already complicated and emotional situation.

 

Balthazar seems to think this might actually be a good thing, and bemoans the fact that they don’t have a picture of Amriel to show to the many new watching eyes. 

 

“Actually, we might,” Jared says thoughtfully, one hand coming up to sweep his hair back.

 

Balthazar looks interested. “What do you mean?”

 

“CCTV on the lot. We could find him if he’s been moving around,” Jared explains. “But I don’t know what he looks like. I didn’t see enough of him the other night when he ...” he waves his hand towards Misha in distress as if he’s suddenly remembered why he’s here.

 

Balthazar is obviously torn between staying to protect Misha and leaving to identify Amriel, if the pacing and heavy frowning face is anything to go by. Jensen doesn’t want him to go, with the armory he has handy, and much as he’s ambivalent about social networking he can see the value of thousands of watchers instead of one or two. 

 

“Can you use a gun?” Balthazar suddenly stops pacing and addresses Jensen directly, seemingly having made a decision.

 

“I’m from Texas.”

 

Balthazar tilts his head slightly to one side in confusion, the same way Misha does when he’s playing Cas and Cas doesn’t get one of Dean’s references, and Jensen almost loses it again at the memory of Misha alive and well, but manages to croak out “that means yes.”

 

Balthazar nods and hands him the automatic. He tucks it away handy but out of sight and watches Jared allow himself to be dragged from the hospital room, obviously still confused about what he’s believing in.

 

Jensen’s mightily relieved that nothing happens while they’re gone, because cocky as he might have been, he’s only actually shot rabbits and snakes. He’s as convinced as he’s going to get that all this is real – Balthazar and Amriel and alternate realities. He’s waiting for the bad stuff to happen. He doesn’t know if he’ll ever stop waiting, now. Even if Misha lives and gets better and they kill Amriel or eliminate him in some other way, what’s to stop someone else from coming looking? And he still hasn’t forgotten that Balthazar’s only interested in Misha for his ability to be a short term vessel for Castiel; that he doesn’t actually give a shit about Misha as such, even though he seems to like him. What happens if Castiel needs him? Balthazar said he’d only last a couple of weeks. What happens after that? Jensen realizes he’s never going to stop worrying, but then he worries every time Misha goes off back-country camping on his own as well. He looks over at the bed with its pale, silent occupant and hopes he gets the chance to worry.

 

When they do return, Balthazar seems relieved to find everything status quo, although soon he’s getting antsy that Amriel hasn’t tried anything yet. After the first 24 hours pass and Misha’s still stable, the doctors have started making slightly more encouraging noises. Unfortunately Balthazar now theorizes that this news will bring out Amriel, despite the security provided by the fans. But it doesn’t.

 

“He should have been here by now” Balthazar is proclaiming for at least the twentieth time this morning. “I don’t understand what he’s waiting for.”

 

“I don’t care if he never shows,” Jensen is adamant.

 

Balthazar looks at him as if he’s stupid “well, you should because it won’t end until either Misha’s dead or Amriel’s gone or dead. He’s not going to just go away.” Balthazar walks over to Misha and looks at him fondly, before looking back at Jensen. “You need to leave.”

 

“I’m not going fucking anywhere.” Even Jared jerks in surprise at the aggression in Jensen’s voice.

 

“We have to persuade him to come. You might be putting him off. There are people here all the time. He’s only got human strength now after all.”

 

“You are not using Misha as bait for a homicidal angel”, Jensen yells and a nurse sticks his head in the door with a frown and asks them to be quiet, reminding them there are sick people here; as if Jensen needed reminding.

 

Balthazar takes two short steps to meet Jensen face to face, their noses almost touching and yeah, he’s menacing in an other-worldly way over and above anything Sebastian can manage even at his best. Jensen takes an step back to avoid the spit as Balthazar forces the words out “I want him to live too. But I also need to go home because Castiel needs me. So, we’re going to speed this up. You need to leave and take your big friend.”

 

Jensen refuses; he stays, but Jared leaves as he has to go back to the set anyway. Balthazar sulks. Amriel stays away.

 

The doctor arrives and tells them they’re going to bring Misha out of the induced coma. Now it will be up to Misha to wake up when he’s ready. Apparently the doctors are now erring on optimism but continue to warn Jensen to be prepared for the worst. 

 

For some reason Jensen’s sure that left to his own devices, Misha will be up within minutes and raring to go, even though that makes no sense whatsoever. When it doesn’t happen, and there’s no change, he’s shocked at how devastated he feels. He’s so depressed about the lack of change, that when Jared shows up he’s persuaded to take a coffee run, just to get him out of the room for fifteen minutes. With a nod, because they’re not really talking at the moment, Balthazar confirms he’ll stay and keep watch.

 

When they get back to the room, Balthazar and Misha are both gone. Jensen and Jared both stand open-mouthed by the door, staring into the empty room in horror. All of the various tubes and wires are out, dangling loose. There are smears of blood on the sheets where things have been taken out that really shouldn’t have been. Some equipment is turned off, so there are no warning bells or beeps or tones; everything is silent. 

 

They walk into the room glancing around in confusion as if expecting Misha and Balthazar to suddenly jump out from where they’re hiding shouting ‘gotcha’, and Jensen’s heart is somewhere in his boots. A skidding and gasping from the doorway behind them makes them both turn quickly towards the sound. Balthazar surges into the room, sliding as he takes the corner round the doorframe too fast.

 

“Amriel’s here,” he pants coming to a halt in front of them.

 

“Misha…?” Jensen stutters under his breath.

 

“Next door. Empty room. You go. And keep quiet.” Jared starts to follow Jensen from the room but Balthazar stops him with a hand on his chest. “You stay,” he says urgently. “We need to end this. I need your help.” Jared hesitates then nods. Jensen casts a quick look back over his shoulder and catches the nod and Jared glances at him, determined, before he turns into the corridor.

 

Jensen runs into the next room and he can’t see Misha. The room’s empty, no patient, no machines, no Misha. “Fuck” The exclamation’s probably louder and certainly more desperate than he intended, but it’s worth it because he’s rewarded with a noise from the bathroom in the corner and the door opens a crack before it opens wider and a wide-eyed, stumbling Misha falls out of the door, one arm wrapped tightly round his abdomen as if holding his insides in.

 

Jensen leaps forward to stop him collapsing in a heap and wraps both arms round him, lowering him to the floor, torn between relief at seeing him awake and fright at seeing him floundering and falling.

 

“Jensen, what the fuck’s happening?” Misha croaks, peering up with frightened blue eyes.

 

“Too long to explain right now, but we need to be quiet. Tell you soon. Just wait, okay?” Jensen bows his head to Misha’s and breathes him in. He smells like two days of illness and bed baths but Jensen doesn’t mind. Misha squirms a little in his grip so Jensen reluctantly drops his arms giving him some space. “Stop wriggling, man. You’ll hurt yourself. And be quiet.”

 

“I already hurt. And why?”

 

“Shhh.” Jensen says urgently, hearing noises next door and he hopes Balthazar is looking after Jared. 

 

“Amriel” Jared says, scared and Jensen remembers he knows the face because of the CCTV. Jared’s voice is clear and loud and the walls must be paper thin. 

 

He pulls Misha back into him. Misha moans. Fuck, he must have hurt him. He looks down to check but Misha’s asleep or unconscious again, so he puts a hand over Misha’s mouth, feeling three days of stubble and warm breath tickling his palm and aching inside at the sound of the muted moans.

 

“Where is he?” Amriel’s quiet but menacing voice filters into the room. 

 

“Somewhere you can’t get him,” Balthazar says, confident and in charge. Jensen can hear his voice less distinctly as if he’s further away. Misha twists against him and lets out a louder than normal groan. Jensen pushes his hand down on Misha’s mouth more firmly with a silent apology. He holds his breath but there’s no sound of recognition or discovery from the next room, so he slowly lets it out again.

 

Jensen strains to hear because the voices have gone silent. Angels aren’t the talkative type apparently. The next noise he hears is a growl. There’s no other word for it. Even though it’s obviously Amriel, it’s inhuman and Jensen cringes. 

 

There’s more silence, then a kind of crumpled thump. Jensen hears Jared say a slightly shaky “fuck” at the same time he hears Balthazar’s voice come through clear and satisfied. “Got him.”

 

Jensen decides Jared’s darker than he thought when the next voice he hears is Jared’s asking questions about a trap and what happened to no magic and who’s blood is this and what are they going to do with the body, but he deduces that the threat is gone but he can’t quite relax yet until he knows for sure. He keeps focus on Misha’s shallow breaths and unsteady, but there, heart beat and releases his hand from over his mouth. He sits, boneless on the floor and waits for someone to find them. 

 

That someone turns out to be Jared about two minutes later. He sticks his head in, ducking under the door frame and his face drops when he sees Misha slumped against Jensen.

 

“Jen…is he okay?”

 

“Yeah, I think so. Where’s Balthazar?

 

“Um, he’s gone. The other angel too.”

 

“Gone where?” Jensen asks surprised.

 

“Back to where they came from. It was pretty awesome, actually. I wish you’d seen it.” Jared shakes his head back to reality. Their reality. “I’ll get someone,” he says nodding at Misha before disappearing into the corridor.

 

Misha’s resettled carefully by the medical staff with lots of frowning and anxiety but ultimately with apparently not too much extra harm having been caused by his move, but he doesn’t wake up again and Jensen’s starting to wonder if he imagined it. He and Jared had pleaded ignorance about what had happened to cause Misha to be out of his bed in the first place because what could they say that would be believed? They had their cardboard coffee cups as sort of evidence that they’d taken a walk.

 

Later that night, Misha wakes up for the second time. Jensen feels the long, narrow fingers curl in his fist and while he’s still trying to work out if he’s imagined it, a throaty, dry voice murmurs a sleepy “hey”, barely more than a whisper.

 

“Oh… thank fuck! You sod! You had us worried,” was out of his mouth in relief before he realized that probably wasn’t the most romantic thing he could have said.

 

Misha gave a short huff of what Jensen really hoped was amusement, “Sorry.”

 

\--xxx—

 

Misha pretty much went straight back to sleep again after that, but at various times over the next day he woke up for longer stretches and Jensen fills in the gaps for him about what he didn’t know. Misha isn’t sure he entirely believes him. He sort of does and he sort of doesn’t. Even when Jared comes in and backs up Jensen’s story, and describes the awesome inter-dimensional magic that Balthazar had used to disappear Amriel and himself, it still felt like some kind of elaborate hoax, because how the hell could it be real? 

 

Sebastian comes to visit him in the hospital, having come to Vancouver on schedule for shooting. He’s all ignorant and luvvy and wondering why the hell Jensen and Jared are treating him so weird, and at first Misha tenses in his presence but then he relaxes because this is obviously his Sebastian, not some imposter angel and it’s at this point that Misha starts to believe for real.

 

The afternoon of his escape, okay, discharge, from the hospital Jared and Jensen both come to pick him up. Jared walks into the room with his phone out, shaking his head. “You told them you were abducted by aliens and probed?” he laughs. 

 

“More feasible than being attacked by a Ninja assassin angel from another reality and rescued by Balthazar, I thought,” says Misha, grinning, trying to put his socks on. “Oh, fuck it.” He throws the sock down in disgust. He can’t bend over far enough. He looks at Jensen. “Are you going to help or just stand there looking pretty?”

 

Jensen doesn’t move, “you don’t like it when I fuss.”

 

“Get your ass over here and put my socks on.”

 

Jensen snorts and does as he was told. As he stands up, he put a hand on Misha’s head and ruffles his hair. Misha jerks backwards, playfully but doesn’t say anything. He’s cutting Jensen a bit of slack for now.

 

“D’you think we’ll ever see any of them again?” Jared asked, a little too wistfully, Misha thinks. 

 

“Shit. I hope the hell not. It can’t be good if we do,” Jensen says, looking aghast at his friend. Misha looks across at Jensen, slightly anxious, because Jensen has told him all his new worries, and they’d laughed together at the time to play them down, but they’re real enough; but Jensen looks okay.

 

\--xxx—

 

That night, Misha has a dream about Castiel. It’s not his first by a long shot. What he sees in his dreams is rarely what they script and shoot in the show, but it’s darker and scarier. For the first time he thinks that what he sees might be real. He wakes Jensen up to tell him that they won’t have Balthazar to help them next time. They make tea and sip and chat and make a conscious decision not to worry and to go back to sleep. 

 

If Misha dreams that Castiel is seeking a new vessel in an alternative reality, they’ll worry about it then.

 

\---E N D--


End file.
